


Negotiations

by artistsfuneral



Series: short tumblr stories [1]
Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Feelings, Gen, Geralt is a mess, Like Adults, Originally Posted on Tumblr, Post Mountain Fic, Relationship Negotiation, Self-Esteem Issues, Serious talking, and they liked it there so, less plot more talking about their dynamic, watch the author trying to untangle netflix' mess
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-28
Updated: 2021-02-28
Packaged: 2021-03-12 06:22:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,074
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29755410
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/artistsfuneral/pseuds/artistsfuneral
Summary: But when Geralt returns to camp, Jaskier is still there. “Sit,” he orders and Geralt complies without thinking, sinks to the dusty ground like a trained dog. Jaskier's eyes won't leave him. “We will talk now, Geralt. This conversation is long due and I am tired of waiting for you.” That's what all this is really about, isn't it?---prompted by Shadowmightwrite17
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia & Jaskier | Dandelion
Series: short tumblr stories [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2186898
Comments: 2
Kudos: 31





	Negotiations

For someone, who isn't supposed to have feelings, Geralt stays an awfully long time standing there, just staring at the dull, sandy landscape around him. At some point he hears Borch leave, the old dragon having more important things to do than watching a witcher pity himself. And that's exactly what he does.

Geralt, by all means, is not a good man, when it comes to any kind of relationships. Who is he kidding? He's terrible at it. He doesn't even _like_ people and that fact is precisely, where all his problems connect. In a way he has come to hate humans, dislike most non-humans and despise monsters. That doesn't leave a lot of options to make friends, so he just- stopped. He wasn't always like this, of course, young and green, still thinking of himself as the savior of humanity, but after decades of stoning, screaming, spitting, scoffing at him, Geralt had become bitter. Perhaps it was after the Blaviken massacre, perhaps it happened much earlier.

Of course there's always one or two people that don't look at him like that, that treat him almost normal, but they can't change his cynicism, his bitterness and deeply rooted hatred, anymore. It's too late. Geralt is not a good man, despite what others may say. There was a time when he craved it. Addicted to meaningless praise like a court jester. He still is, sometimes, when it comes to people like Yennefer and Jaskier... the future-less boy that is somewhere out there.

In a way, it is worse with them. He knows it's utterly foolish, everything he does contradicts itself. How he forced himself upon Yennefer, a woman he had barely known for a few days, but had invoked... something in him. How he keeps pushing and pushing Jaskier away, a man he has known for nearly two decades, that calls himself Geralt's friend and keeps coming back again and again, on his own account. At this point he is more monster than man. Holding up his hands, he stares at them, searching for something he can't name.

He wonders for a short moment, if they are covered in strings, or if he has finally managed to cut them all loose. Surely Jaskier is already past the gorge. The sun is going down.

But when Geralt returns to camp, Jaskier is still there. He has changed out of his red doublet and trousers and instead is wearing a soft, white chemise and dark green breaches. His bags are unpacked and he is furiously scribbling in one of his notebooks, while Roach watches him with great curiosity. Jaskier, apparently, has no means to leave the mountainside for tonight. Something inside Geralt's mind shifts. “Jaskier.”

Said one shuts his journal and takes a long, controlled breath. The witcher has only seen him this determined a handful of times before and being stared down by Jaskier like that is a strangely intimidating feeling. “Sit,” he orders and Geralt complies without thinking, sinks to the dusty ground like a trained dog. Jaskier's eyes won't leave him. “We will talk now, Geralt. This conversation is long due and I am tired of waiting for you.”

It hurts. The sharp tone, the truthful words, they burn themselves into the witcher's chest. But the one thing Geralt is most familiar with is pain, so he keeps his mouth shut and bows his head. Because Jaskier is still there. It seems like he never will and yet he has just said that he would. Contradicting. It's Geralt's fault, isn't it?

“Now listen up,” Jaskier resumes, “because quite frankly you have pushed it too far, my dear, so I will only say this once.” Geralt looks up again and their eyes meet. For a moment, Jaskier is quiet, making sure that Geralt really does listen. “I have known you, Geralt of Rivia, for nearly twenty years of my life. I spend months, each year, following you around like a dog and I get treated like one too, most of the time. I can get my treats elsewhere, so I never needed you to dote on me. But this? 'If life could give me one blessing,' was it? I am very well aware of my own failures, alright? But I do not deserve this. I am self-centered, loud and proud and I do get into a lot of trouble, but that does not make me worth any less. I like who I am, Geralt, and I like to know my worth.”

Geralt stays silent and bows his head again. The sun has nearly vanished behind the mountains, but the campfire illuminates their faces well enough for Jaskier to see him. The bard looks older now, tired in a way that is entirely Geralt's fault. But he's still here. “I don't deserve you.”

Jaskier lets out a wet laugh, his voice has lost all harshness as he speaks again, “That's the problem, Geralt. I know my worth, but you can't seem to find yours. Do you really believe, I don't realize that you are trying to punish yourself? That this... pushing me away happens, because you are scared?” Geralt can't look him in the eyes. The truth hurts too much. “Do you really believe, I don't know that the thing that scares you the most is not some kind of monster, but the idea that the people you trust and love, will leave you? I know you hate Destiny, because in your eyes, it's the only thing connecting you those very same people and you think that’s the only reason Yennefer comes back to you. But seriously, fuck you, Geralt. Because every day I wake up I choose to spend my life by your side. I choose it. And I want to believe, you choose me too.”

The witcher's eyes burn, unable to form tears, he still cries silently. The pain in his chest has gotten so bad, he feels like throwing up, he physically can't, but it's a feeling he remembers well from his years in training. Geralt sees himself more as a monster than a man and like every witcher he despises monsters. But Jaskier is still there, still waiting for him, like he somehow always has. Jaskier, who is in a way as troublesome as Geralt himself. Jaskier, who still knows his worth and chooses to believes in Geralt's. That's what all this is really about, isn't it? Choice against Destiny?

“I do.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! Check out [my tumblr](https://artistsfuneral.tumblr.com/)  
> (also feel free to yell at me for any (spelling) mistakes, I didn't beta this)


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